


We are the weather

by lakemonsters



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: A whole lot of dreams, Chemistry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakemonsters/pseuds/lakemonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together they can really make it rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are the weather

It must have been the longest day of their lives. 

The toughest opponents that they've faced so far. It's not because they're weak, it's because they can't hear the music and the other team follows a beat only they can hear. There's talk of losing and winning and dreams ending.

* * *

Hiruma thinks that it's all just hype, that it's nothing more than shambled notes and white noise. He can pick up on the static, sometimes a tone or two, then it would die down. Like a puzzle, similar to that one that he continuously works on day in and day out. Every win, loss and all else in between; are disjointed pieces that he's forced onto other disjointed parts just to get by. This is because of the promise that they made all those years ago.

He wonders how far they could go with such a reckless game plan. Maybe they'd go places on a vehicle that runs on volatile fuel, parts jangling and bursting steam when worked too hard and driven too far. Who knows. All he knows is that he needs to make it work until someone actually gets off his ass, wises up and fixes it. 

Hiruma's been waiting for thousands of hours, he is not a patient man and he's only waiting because he knows that _he_ will come.

* * *

Hiruma likes details. 

Some details are useful, while others were just little things you occupy yourself with to pass the time. For someone who's been waiting, that is most important. He's counted the weeks, days, hours, minutes down to the seconds. Hiruma rams these details, scribbles between already written words, fattens up his Book of Threats, if it means that time moved for today and that they are somewhat closer.

The field smells odd and the air tastes even stranger. Somewhere behind him he hears Kazuki say, 'If only we had a Kicker'. Hiruma frowns. Because they already have one and that's the end of that. No more fucking questions. Hiruma volunteers to kick at 45 yards, though he knows that he can't.

No one kicks like Musashi. No one. 

He wouldn't have made some tall tale about a 60-yard Monster if he didn't believe in _him_. Hiruma tells himself countless times that 'it's just the minutes ticking away', another step towards the Christmas Bowl. Defeat does exist if you do not acknowledge your own demise. He pops his gum, tunes in to the wind and past static he hears footsteps. There is no surprise, just a slow grin. He expects the apology to come first and predicta that Kurita will come running and hug the long lost Musashi - tears and all. 

_Fucking softie pork bun..._

Hiruma's dealt with this scenario countless times in his head, has calmed himself to a cathartic state because he knows if he doesn't, it will overwhelm him. Maybe he'll pat Musashi on the back later after the game or gun him down with a pile of blanks from one of his automatics. Who knows. But the waiting is over and Musashi is very, very late. 

But Hiruma forgives him because what matters most is that he is here. He tosses the Kicking Tee into his hand and smiles because he knows it was dusty and Musashi has no other choice but to dirty his hands with all of this. It's not like he doesn't want to anyway.

Hiruma walks up to Musashi and points at the '11' on his uniform before he tells him to 'finish the fucking game'.

* * *

It's sort of normal, a demon that speaks to a man at a level that he truly understands - demons are humanists after all. And as Musashi prepares to kick, Hiruma crouches at knee-level. Their eyes meet for one brief second. He grins --

"Welcome back. Fucking old man."

Musashi nods and delivers a powerful kick that sends the ball everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Hiruma can hear the crowd clearly now, and there was no more static, the calm before a storm and the other team better have a damn strong umbrella -

 

Because _he's_ here now and together - together, they can really make it rain.


End file.
